The weight of my family’s legacy hung heavily over me, adding to my uncertainty about fitting in here. Seeing the genuine concern these people had for their town made me feel even more strongly about separating myself from Carlisle Enterprises. The idea of staying in Hallow’s End, and making my own path became more appealing, especially now that I was getting to know the people, and experiencing the tight-knit, supportive nature of the community. It felt like a world away from the cold business strategies I grew up with, and the last thing I wanted was to be associated with disrupting such a close and caring town.
As the room quieted down, Ivy glanced at me, then stood up, her voice clear and confident. “Let's not forget,” she began, “we have a thriving, dynamic community here. Supporting each other, and promoting local talents and businesses, is the heart of Hallow’s End. If we focus on that, we can find solutions that protect what we love about this town without compromising its essence.” She paused, her eyes scanning the room. “We’ve faced challenges before, and we’ve always come through stronger. Let’s keep pushing forward together.”
The space filled with a chorus of supportive murmurs and nods. Mayor Hale smiled at Ivy, appreciating her words. “Thank you, Ivy. It’s voices like yours that remind us of the importance of unity and creativity. As always, we’re committed to keeping our community informed and involved in the decision-making process.”
She paused, looking around the room. “We want to hear from all of you. If you have ideas or concerns, please share them. We’ve set up a suggestion box at the entrance—feel free to drop in your thoughts anonymously, if you prefer. We also have forms available for more detailed feedback. Your input is invaluable, and together, we can find the best path forward for Hallow’s End.”
Mayor Hale moved on to the next item on the agenda, her tone more relaxed. “Now, let’s discuss the upcoming charity bake sale. We’re aiming to raise funds to renovate the town playground. We’re still looking for volunteers to bake and help out on the day of the event.”
A few hands shot up, and someone joked about Carl needing to bring his award-winning pie to the bake sale. This sparked a few laughs and light-hearted comments.
Next, a young woman with purple hair in the front row spoke up about organizing a community garden. “We’ve been talking about starting one for a while,” she said. “It would be a great way to bring everyone together, and provide fresh produce for those in need.”
As soon as she finished, a man stood up. “Speaking of gardens,” he said, voice tinged with frustration, “the veggie thief struck again! I swear, I had five pumpkins yesterday, but when I was watering this morning, there were only four. And don’t get me started on the carrots—gone without a trace!”
A collective groan mixed with chuckles rippled through the room. A few people rolled their eyes, murmuring, “Here he goes again,” while others stifled laughter. Ivy leaned over to me, whispering with a wry smile, “Like clockwork.”
I stifled a giggle, whispering back, “I thought you were exaggerating. Does he always think someone’s out to get his garden?”
Ivy nodded, her eyes twinkling. “Every single meeting.”
Mayor Hale, clearly accustomed to Danny’s regular complaints, addressed him with a patient smile. “Thank you, Danny. We’re aware of the ongoing issue, and we’re looking into ways to help prevent these . . . incidents,” she said, her tone a blend of sincerity and gentle amusement.
Danny sat back, still muttering about his disappearing pumpkins and pilfered carrots. “She says that every time.”
Ivy leaned closer once more, her voice low and amused. “Poor Danny, he’s convinced there’s a vegetable conspiracy.”
Chapter 6
AS THE MEETING CAME TO A CLOSE, the room filled with friendly chatter. People seemed in no hurry to leave, instead lingering to catch up with neighbors and discuss the evening’s topics. It was clear this was as much a social event as it was a meeting, with everyone enjoying the chance to connect.
Not quite comfortable enough to join in the post-meeting conversations, and wary of any further mention of my father’s business, I quietly slipped out. The cool night air greeted me, refreshing and crisp.
A sense of calm washed over me as I took in the scene: the stars twinkling brightly in the clear night sky, the occasional hoot of an owl echoing in the distance. It was a stark contrast to the city nights in Cresden, where the skyline was always lit up, masking the stars, and the constant hum of traffic replaced any chance of hearing nature.
“Hey, Vinnie,” Ethan called out, his voice warm and inviting. I turned to see him strolling over, looking attractive in a flannel shirt that fit him just right. His sleeves were rolled up, showing off his toned forearms, and his dark jeans with sturdy boots gave him a rugged, approachable vibe.
“Hi, Ethan,” I said, trying not to stare too much. He had a way of making casual look incredibly attractive.
“So, how did you find the meeting?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.
I gave a small, uncertain laugh, trying to find the right words. “It was . . . intense,” I finally said, then added with a grin, “But Danny’s rant about the veggie thief was definitely entertaining.”
Ethan chuckled, his laugh rich and contagious. “Yeah, Danny’s a character. Most of us think thethiefis just a bunch of raccoons with a taste for fresh veggies.”
I giggled at the image. “Honestly, that sounds pretty plausible.”
A sudden gust swept through the square, causing a speck of dirt to fly into my eye. I blinked and rubbed at it, wincing slightly.
“Hold still,” Ethan said softly, stepping closer. He peered into my eye, a concerned expression crossing his face. “Looks like an eyelash,” he murmured, his voice gentle. His fingers brushed my cheek, carefully coaxing the tiny eyelash away. His touch radiated a gentle heat, lingering a moment longer than necessary. The warmth of his breath mingled with the cool evening air, creating a charged silence between us. It felt like we were the only ones there, wrapped in an intimate bubble.
“Thanks,” I whispered, meeting his gaze. His smile was gentle, but there was an unmistakable spark in his eyes that made my heart race. The concern in his eyes softened into something warmer, more magnetic. His lips curved into a slight, teasing smile as he leaned in just a fraction closer, the air between us thick with unspoken anticipation.
“No problem,” he murmured, his voice low. Realizing how close he was, Ethan stepped back with a playful grin. “Didn’t mean to invade your personal space,” he joked, his tone light.
As he stepped back, I felt a sudden emptiness where his warmth had been, a chill creeping in to replace it. My heart, which had been racing, slowed, leaving a fluttery sensation in my chest. Even with the distance, I could still catch the scent of his cologne, a mix of woodsy notes and a fresh citrusy hint that lingered in the air. The moment was brief, but it left a lingering sense of excitement, and a surprising desire for more of that closeness.
Ethan cleared his throat, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between us. “So, I’ve been hearing some rumors,” he began with a playful grin. “Word around town is that you’re thinking about opening an art gallery. News travels fast in Hallow’s End.”
